


flown in the swiftness

by 1sleepydormouse (AlderBee), AlderBee



Series: saturnine [6]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Comfort, Crossdressing, F/M, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/1sleepydormouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/AlderBee
Summary: They broke the kiss simultaneously, looking down together to see the contrast of dark fabric against Jughead’s lighter skin.Jughead could already imagine how good it would look draped across his torso.





	flown in the swiftness

**Author's Note:**

> UH, this is probably not everyone’s cup of tea. If you are uncomfortable, or uninterested in a character who cross dresses and the consequential internal angst that comes with that, please pass this. No place for hate in the comments. *kisses

“Hey, Juggie. What do you think about this one?”

 

Turning away from his phone, Jughead looked up to see the camisole Betty held for his opinion. The straps were thin and delicate, shiny under the store’s lights. A subtle difference from the supple heaviness of the dark velvet that made up the rest of the camisole. The front of the top plunged into a wide V, no doubt meant to drape softly over the slope of breasts, just heavy enough to keep someone from feeling too naked.

 

Without responding, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against the thick fabric. He had never seen a camisole made with this type of fabric.

 

Betty echoed his silence, respectfully giving him time to process and respond once he was comfortable.

 

Jughead wished he could tell her that he was fine. That this was fine. That standing in a brightly lit boutique that featured only women’s clothing was perfectly okay because couples went shopping all the time.

 

But he wasn’t.

 

Jughead felt exposed, like every breath and move he made was a spot light for every passing stranger.

 

For a moment, he regretted telling Betty anything. Regretted wearing those damn socks during their scheduled study date.

 

Betty, ever attuned to any shift in his breathing or demeanor, leaned close into him, sliding a solid hand into the small of his back to guide them into a quiet corner away from the busy clearance area. Jughead allowed himself to take a deep breath when they were safely ensconced away.

 

He gained focus long enough to smile at the sight of his much shorter girlfriend, acting as a protective buffer from the rest of the world.

 

This was okay. He was going to be fine.

 

Guilt slid across Betty’s face as she slid her hand under his jacket, lightly fidgeting with the seam of his thin t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Juggie. If this is too overwhelming, I don’t, I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything.”

 

Recomposed, Jughead cupped her chin and brought Betty in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. She responded immediately, reaching up with her other hand to gently cup his neck. Consequently, this brought the velvet camisole between them, crushing the thick fabric against the exposed wrist he held Betty with.

 

It really did feel nice.

 

They broke the kiss simultaneously, looking down together to see the contrast of dark fabric against Jughead’s lighter skin.

 

Jughead could already imagine how good it would look draped across his torso.

 

“It’s not too much,” he assured her quietly. “It’s just . . . different.”

 

Betty smiled up at him. “A little more intimidating than online shopping, huh?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. There is a bit of adrenaline involved when trying to beat your mom or little sister to the mailbox on delivery days.”

 

Betty collapsed against Jughead in a fit of giggles. “Oh, god.”

 

“Thank the stars for discreet packaging.” Dropping a kiss against Betty’s head, he pulled away, this time holding the cardigan on his own.

 

Prior to this surprise shopping trip, Jughead owned a grand total of three soft, cotton camisoles, four pairs of delicately laced socks, one pair of silk stockings, one pair of fishnet stockings, and five of the softest yoga pants. All of the items were varying shades of blue or green or nude, and were kept carefully folded in a travel icebox that Jughead had found for cheap at a local garage sale. It was inconspicuous and covered in a mass array of rock band stickers. It was practically invisible, tucked in the furthest corner of his closet. After a good cleaning, it was the perfect hiding place for his rather embarrassing proclivities.

 

And it was embarrassing.

 

What was even worse, is that Jughead didn’t even _really know why he liked them._ There were plenty of self-hate filled, sleepless nights when he would stew in bed, glaring at the ceiling of his room and trying to figure out what exactly was fucking wrong with him.

 

When Jughead had finally revealed his secret to Betty, her eyes held the same questions that Jughead could never seem to answer for himself.

 

Did he just _like_ wearing feminine clothing? Did he just like the feel of the different fabrics on his bare skin? Was it a cross-dressing thing? Or was it a sensory thing?

 

Jughead didn’t think of himself as a girl, or even feminine. He liked sports as much as the next guy (or gal). The majority of his non-secret wardrobe consisted of t-shirts, jeans, sweatshirts, and seasonal-appropriate coats. He felt comfortable in all of those things. But he also never bothered to feel self-conscious in those outfits either.

 

When he wore a cardigan (carefully, under a t-shirt, and sweater, and even a jacket), Jughead felt a mix of contradictory emotions.

 

Comfortable. Happy. Calm. Soft.

 

Shameful. Emasculated. Embarrassed. Wrong.

 

Jughead would have nightmares sometimes. Where Arch, or Reggie, or any of the guys from the football team would catch a glimpse of what he sometimes wore beneath his clothes. He would wake up panicking, hate-filled eyes and derogatory jokes chasing him back into consciousness. He loved his friends. Loved his life and his place in it.

 

He wasn’t going to let this stupid compulsion ruin that for him.

 

No matter how much he tried to shake it off.

 

Not that he could ever stop.

 

When Jughead was having the best day, or the worst day, or if he was in a moment where things just felt wrong, putting on one of his camisoles or yoga pants calmed that uncomfortable feeling that buzzed at the roots of his teeth.

 

When Jughead was younger, he never really questioned it. Sure a few of his mother’s silk socks would go missing, carefully hidden under his pillow where he could run his fingers along the fabric.

 

Then came school. And friends. _And puberty._

 

And that’s when you learned that there were things that boys did, and things that only girls did. And crossing that line between boy and girl? That was wrong.

 

Dangerous.

 

Not that Jughead would ever fault anyone else if they were to open up to him. He didn’t give a shit if any of his guy friends slept in a full-body fursuit or lingerie  None of that mattered to him.

 

He just didn’t know if that mattered _to them_. Which was definitely a kick in the teeth.

 

And Jughead was too much of a coward to bring it up.

 

Betty catching a glimpse of his sock was a mistake . . . and while in the moment, it caused Jughead extreme anxiety . . . he also felt terrifying liberated.

 

Loved, when he clearly saw that Betty was surprised, but didn’t mind. Still graced him with a smile and kissed his neck.

 

Then offered to go shopping with him.

 

Jughead said yes before thinking if he was ready for this. Too elated by the Betty’s acceptance.

 

But now, he can say, without a shred of doubt, that he was definitely glad they were here.

 

“Let’s get it.”

 

Betty was silent for a moment, considering the garment in his arm.

 

It was just then that Jughead realized that he wanted Betty to like it to. He wanted her to imagine the camisole, hanging on his broader shoulders and flat chest. Maybe the hem would just barely brush over the band of his boxers . . . or hover just a little bit higher, revealing his mid drift.

 

Betty looked up at him, blue eyes pinning him in place. “What do you like about this one?”

 

Jughead arched a brow, not expecting the question and not prepared to answer quite yet. “Why did you pick it?”

 

“Because I think it would look really sexy on you,” she immediately responded, surprising Jughead with her blunt reply. “I could immediately tell that the cut and drape would complement your body type.” A blush colored the curves of her cheeks. “You would look . . . beautiful in it.”

 

Jughead just stood there, unable to respond as Betty shook her head and took a step closer.

 

“When you told me, explained to me how you felt when wearing these, you didn’t mention anything about aesthetics. It was all about the texture or the positive emotions these bring you. So,” she cleared her throat, chuckling a little, “after my little pervert moment, I thought about the texture. My winter formal dress last year had velvet detailing on the sleeves, remember? You couldn’t keep your hands off them the whole night.”

 

Jughead warmed, vividly remembering that particular dress.

 

“While I know you were just admiring the texture on little ole’ me,” she smiled, “I thought this would be a nice, subtle way for you to have that as well. Just, sharing the wealth as you’d imagine.”

 

Jughead had to physically restrain himself from dropping to his knees and having his way with Betty right there on the store floor.

 

“And, this is new. In the whole ‘us’ equation, er, situation.” Betty stuttered, flushing darker. “I, I want you to feel safe to explore it between us. Maybe, we can help you figure out a little bit more. See if maybe the ‘beauty’ and ‘sexy’ part do something for you. Like, like it does for me.”

 

Well.

 

Jughead never particularly considered himself beautiful. Or even sexy for that matter. He knew that Betty appreciated his looks. How he dressed. His physical presence complemented with hers. Betty’s happiness equated to his, which meant that when they dated, he made sure to wear the clothes that she showed the most appreciation for. Tighter shirts, darker colors. Jeans that were a bitch to get into sometimes, but made Betty light up like the Fourth of July.

 

Hm.

 

He wasn’t particularly interested in feeling pretty or sexy. But he was interested in Betty thinking he was pretty or sexy. And if her response to him in this camisole echoed previous clothing experiments?

 

This hypothesis need testing.

 

Immediately.

 

Jughead reached down and took Betty’s hand in his. “Let’s buy this and go home. I’m open for a bit of exploration tonight if you feel like you can lose one study night.”

 

“Let’s get in line.”

**Author's Note:**

> Angst-ish, crossdressing and insecurity, AU. Not going to lie. This one-shot was HEAVILY influenced by Bohemian Rhapsody. Such an amazing movie and I loved every freaking moment of it. I have so much love for Rami Malek. Title of the fic was pulled from Queen’s “These Are the Days of Our Lives.” I don’t think I’ll ever NOT associate these two with a song when I write! XP


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